


I Talked To The Man In The Moon

by bookish_changeling



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dean Winchester is Saved, Episode Fix-It: s15e20 Carry On, First Kiss, Fix-It, Gen, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Hunter Castiel (Supernatural), Love Confessions, M/M, Resurrection, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:08:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27665206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookish_changeling/pseuds/bookish_changeling
Summary: "You just had to tell me you loved me right when I couldn’t say it back.”Or: Castiel rips out his grace in order to become human and escape the Empty
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 11
Kudos: 330





	I Talked To The Man In The Moon

Every step hurt.

The sun beat down on his shoulders, and the wind whipped dust in his eyes.

He was getting closer, but it would still be hours before he’d be home.

This was a route he’d traveled before, years ago.

The road took a sharp turn, and a truck came up behind him.

“Need a ride, mister?” A young man leaned out the window, his smile friendly.

Every sensation was too big, too loud.

He climbed in with a grateful nod, shutting the door quietly.

“I’m Ben,” he said amicably. “Where you heading?”

“I’m… Cas.” He looked out the window. “I’m heading for Lebanon.”

The leather seats were warm, they stuck to his skin.

“Got someone waiting for you?”

“I-”

'Cursed or not,' a phantom image of Dean whispered in the back of his mind. 'I'd rather have you.'

“I don’t know,” he replied softly. “Maybe.”

Ben nodded, dropping the subject. “Mind if I play some music?”

Every breath rattled in his chest, almost to the point of being painful.

When Cas shook his head, he flipped the radio on, grinning when it started up on a familiar song. “You know Zeppelin?”

Dean’s Top 13 Zepp Trax.

“I… am familiar,” he said carefully.

“Leaves are falling all around. It's time I was on my way.” The singer on the radio crooned softly, the voice crackling slightly.

“Nice. Feel free to take a nap or whatever, we’ve got about an hour before we get there. I’m just passing through, but I’ll drop you off wherever you want.”

His fingers held achingly tight to the bundle that was his coat.

“Thank you.” Cas smiled gratefully. “I believe I’ll sleep. I haven’t had rest in-”

screams regret pain empty EMPTY

“A long time,” he finished.

“Alright.” Ben turned the radio a bit lower, smiling easily. “Get some sleep then, old timer. I’ll wake you when we get to the outskirts.”

Piercing rays of sun hit his eyes.

He folded his jacket into a ball, resting it against the window for a strange attempt at a pillow, and stared out the window, hoping the monotony would lull him to sleep.

Unfortunately, the sleeplessness that had plagued him last time he was human seemed bound to repeat more of the same this time.

Instead of sleeping, he just stared out the window, lost in a daze.

The hour passed slowly, but he began to see familiar landmarks eventually, leading to a warmth kindling in his heart.

He was almost home.

The sun was just above the horizon when they pulled into the convenience store, and Ben gave him a nod. “I hope whoever you think is waiting, really is.”

Cas ducked his head, fingers curling into the fabric of his trenchcoat. “Me too.”

“Good luck.”

“Thank you.” Cas stepped onto the pavement, giving a grateful smile. “For the ride, the company… the music. Thank you.”

The wind picked up, scouring along the back of his neck, whispers of an approaching storm.

“No problem. Pass it along someday, yeah?”

Then the young man was gone, and Cas was left standing in Lebanon Kansas.

The bunker would be a long trek from here, but he should make it before dark.

With that thought, he started walking.

The last rays of sun touched the top of the old building when he set eyes on it, and he could have cried.

He’d have blisters in the morning, almost certainly, but nothing could overshadow the relief he felt at finally being home.

Knocking felt conspicuous, but there was no other way he could get in.

Footsteps.

The door opened, just a crack.

Sam looked out, and his eyes widened in shock.

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

Cas merely frozen with relief, Sam with numerous more emotions.

His brother in all but blood seemed to shove all of the emotion down for a moment, setting his face blankly. "What are you?"

"It's me."

"Step back. Now."

He did as told, slowly, carefully. "It's me, Sam. I swear. Do the tests."

"No. Castiel is dead. So whatever you are, you're not him."

"Ask me something only I would know." He was so, so tired, but he knew these small rituals had to be done for everyone's peace of mind.

"Cas told me about his favorite heaven, once. What was it?"

"An eternal Tuesday afternoon of an autistic man who drowned in a bathtub in 1953." Cas tipped his head to the side. "Now will you do the tests?"

Over the next minute, he was doused with holy water, had a handful of salt thrown at him, and had a silver blade cut into his arm.

When Sam had finished, he looked lost, standing with his hands limp at his sides. "How?"

His voice was quiet, a tiny, broken thing. "We looked everywhere, for someone, something that could fix it. How are you here?"

"I have become very good at annoying cosmic entities," Cas informed him, straight faced. And then, in a more serious tone. "And there is nothing that can keep me from coming back to you both."

Something shattered in Sam’s face, and he shook his head weakly. "Cas, Dean is- he's…"

Horror laced through his veins, and he dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands.

The bite of pain focused him, and he looked to the sky, not even trying to hide the wetness in his eyes. "What happened?"

"We were hunting." Sam swallowed tightly. "I was with him."

"Good."

Sam blinked rapidly, taking a step back, and gesturing towards the stairs. "Come on. It's your home too."

The minute he stepped inside, he was immediately pulled into a tight hug.

"It's… it’s good to see you," Sam said quietly. "It's really good to see you."

"I don't know what to do now," he said softly, surprising himself.

"Yeah." His friend huffed a soft, sad laugh. "Me neither."

Everything looked the same as it had before he was taken.

All the tables were empty save for alcohol bottles.

He glanced over to where the carved initials were, and stilled.

There, beside the S.W, M.W, JACK, and the D.W, carved with painstaking precision, was his own name.

Bold and bright, cut into the wood in firm strokes.

CASTIEL.

Cas traced a finger over the letters, a painful warmth blooming in his chest.

"Where's Jack?"

"He's… God. Sort of. Him and Amara are kind of… doing a balance thing. Yin yang. I don’t know."

He stared at Sam speechlessly, and the younger man shrugged weakly. "The bomb Billie made turned him into a power vacuum, and he absorbed power from every plant he passed, and then he absorbed all the energy from Michael and Lucifer fighting, Lucifer dying-"

"I thought he was dead-"

"He was. Chuck brought him back. And then Jack absorbed all the God power from Chuck killing Michael, and trying to kill us. He was able to take away Chuck's power." Sam took a deep breath. "And now they're a balance, and said they won't interfere like Chuck did. Hands off."

"Oh."

Sam watched him with a dazed look in his eyes, hands fidgeting with the hem of his jacket. "I'm not staying."

The words sounded broken.

"I can't." Every word sounded like it was dragged out with a wire. "I can’t stay here."

Cas watched him sadly. "I understand."

Sam smiled shakily, nodding. "Yeah. I'm- I won't be far, and we’ll talk. Okay? It's good to have you back."

"Yeah."

Cas watched blankly as Sam left the room before turning to the hallway.

His own room was empty, left untouched, save for the bed which looked rumpled and slept in.

A faint scent of alcohol and gunpowder filled the air, reminiscent of Dean, and he rested a hand on the mattress.

He pulled the door shut, and entered Dean’s room next.

The sight hit him like an angel-blade to the heart.

The blankets, pulled haphazardly over the bed, pillow tossed at the head.

Desk messy, papers strewn on the top.

As he looked closer, his eyes fell on a filled out job application for a job at the edge of town, something about construction.

He couldn’t read more.

Everywhere he looked, he felt the absence of his hunter keenly.

Sinking slowly into the edge of the bed, Cas twisted his hand into the soft blanket, ducking his head to hide the wetness in his eyes.

A light knock sounded on the door, and Sam looked through. "Cas? I'm gonna go. Eileen said she could meet me in Wichita. Are you okay here?"

"Yes." He stared at his hand, alternately clenching and smoothing the blanket between his fingers. "Yes, I'm fine."

"Here."

Cas looked up slowly, staring blankly at Sam's held-out fist.

"Cas… here." Sam took his hand, opening it, and putting something cold into his palm.

Opening his hand, he stared at the keys to the Impala.

"He would want you to have it," the younger man said shakily. "I'll take one of the other cars in the garage."

He turned to go.

"Sam."

He stopped, and Cas realized he had nothing to say. "Be careful."

"You too."

The words sounded empty, as if Sam knew being careful was the last thing he wanted right now.

Every sound echoed when he was left alone, and either the silence came the memories, pressing in.

It was worse than the Empty.

Even there, he'd known that Dean was safe, that he'd saved him.

Here, his sacrifice meant nothing.

With no one around to see, he let the tears fall.

+

"Jack?"

Eyes wet.

Cheeks streaked with drying lines of tears.

"Jack, it's me. It's… Castiel. I got out, but I'm- I'm human. The Empty couldn't keep me if I became human, so I cut out my grace. I did it so I could come back to Dean. But he's not here. It's- it's not fair."

He pressed his back against the wall of the same room where, unbeknownst to him, Dean had sat months earlier mourning his death.

"Jack, please. Sam said you're God now, and-"

Every breath stung his throat.

Alcohol limited his senses, and clouded his mind.

It was always easier to get drunk when he was human.

"Please… if you can't bring him back-"

Another breath, this one shards of glass in his throat.

"Take me too. Let me see his heaven. He- he deserves a perfect heaven."

A breath, this one an animal clawing at his lungs.

"Just take me."

Every plea was in vain, though.

The boy-god didn't answer, and Cas was left to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart.

He didn't know how to live in a world without Dean Winchester, never thought he'd be in this position.

Cas had always thought he’d be the one to go first, known it even, with the Empty deal-

'Always happy to bleed for the Winchesters.'

It had always been him who was gone, Dean had always been left behind, and now he knew why Dean had made the deal for Sam, because although the feelings were different, the motivation was the same.

And as Sam began to slowly heal, Cas spiraled into a dark hole of guilt.

He began hunting, and each hunt alleviated some of the angry tension left in his shoulders.

Every monster that he killed was one less to take someone else’s family away.

Soon enough the monsters learned to fear him, just as they had feared the Winchesters.

He was known, not as the Winchesters’ angel, but as a terrifying hunter in his own right.

+

Home base was the bunker.

It had been a week since he’d been back, and silence loomed over his shoulder with every breath.

He set the duffle bag on the table, letting go a weary sigh.

Each hunt left its own mark, and seeing children dead by monstrous hands never got easier.

Cas had taken this hunt for a specific reason, not because of any misplaced sense of righteousness, but because he needed a reason to get out of the bunker.

Today marked a year since Dean had been gone, and he had needed to be as far from Lebanon Kansas as possible.

He had been invited to spend it with Sam and Eileen, but he didn’t think it was possible to be around them, see their domestic bliss, and not feel keenly the loss of his own love.

Stepping gingerly down into the kitchen, he crossed to the fridge to pull the door open

Something sour reached his nose, and he recoiled.

There was a trick to not letting food spoil, and he hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it.

Instead of grabbing the milk, as had been his original intention, he grabbed a beer.

He had never lost the wariness of being a garrison leader, and his senses- while having lost the angelic edge- were sharply honed, so he knew there was someone behind him before he turned.

Setting his unopened beer on the counter to the right of the fridge, he turned slowly, hand falling to the angel blade hidden in the pocket of his coat.

The movement, slow as it was, stopped when he saw just who was behind him.

“Hello.” Jack raised a hand calmly.

Cas stared blankly at him.

The boy- the god- whoever he was now- smiled hesitantly. “It’s good to see you, Cas.”

“Jack?”

The boy-god nodded serenely, lowering his hand to his side. “Yes.”

“Sam said you were- hands off.”

“I am.” Jack shrugged lightly. “Or I will be. I’ve been off world for… a long time, restoring the worlds that Chuck destroyed.”

“You can do that?”

“Yes.”

Cas sank onto one of the benches, nodding faintly. “And you couldn’t- I mean you didn’t-”

“I heard your prayers.” This time Jack looked apologetic. “I couldn’t return, though. We-”

“We?”

“Yes. Amara and I.” Jack tilted his head. “I wouldn’t take you to heaven, Cas. Even if I was here, I wouldn't have taken you. There are… plans in place.”

“Plans?” Cas clenched his fists. “We’ve been in a- a hamster wheel for most of our lives, and now there’s more plans?”

“That isn’t what I mean.” the boy-god smiled wanly. “There are… I believe you know them as death books?”

“What about them?”

“Dean wasn’t meant to die that day.”

Disbelief hit him like a freight train to the gut. “...what?”

“That wasn’t his ending.” Jack lifted one shoulder. “I only got back yesterday, and I… set it to rights.”

“What do you mean?” Hope bloomed, a terrible, treacherous thing.

“I gave Dean enough time to say goodbye to his family in heaven. They were all happy. Bobby said that he knew it wasn’t Dean’s time.”

Cas blinked quickly, the small tendril of hope latching on and growing. “Jack, what are you saying?”

“I brought Dean back.” The boy-god looked pleased with himself. “He was sad to leave his heaven, but he wanted to see Sam again. And you, when I told him that you weren’t in the Empty any longer.”

“Where is he?”

“I took him to Sam and Eileen’s home.” Jack winced. “Sam almost shot Dean. I had to explain everything before coming here.”

“But he’s back? He’s okay?”

“Yes.”

Cas stared wordlessly at the table, repressed emotion swirling to the surface. “Can you… take me there?”

“Yes. I’ll be leaving after, but…” Jack frowned. “I needed to do this.”

“Why now?”

“I could feel your pain. I wanted to make it right.”

“There won’t be any consequences, or- something to go wrong?”

Jack shook his head. “No. You both deserve good things, Cas. You’ve given everything for this world. It’s time to take something for your own.”

+

They landed outside of Sam’s small home without a sound.

Cas automatically bent his knees to adjust to the landing, the movement coming naturally to him after years of flying.

“They’re inside.” Jack gestured behind them both. “I brought the car too, so… Dean can drive you both back to the bunker.”

“Thank you.” Cas couldn’t lift his voice above a whisper, eyes blurring with tears. “Thank you.”

In this moment it hit him that he was about to lose Jack again too.

“You’ll be careful, okay?” He squeezed his son’s shoulder. “I don’t care if you’re God now. You’re still our son, so be careful.”

Jack smiled softly. “If you stop throwing yourself into needlessly risky hunts.”

Cas squinted at him thoughtfully. “I was thinking about retiring.”

The door opened behind them, and Jack directed his wave in that direction. “I’ll be around,” he said firmly. “Goodbye Cas.”

He was gone the same way he’d appeared, silent, and in his place came the sound of footsteps that Cas knew better than his own.

Joy welled up in his chest, spilling over, and he could barely contain the smile as he turned around.

“Hello Dean.”

Dean stood several paces away, head tipped, squinting against the sun, looking warm, and beautiful, and alive. “Hey Cas.”

He took a step forward, Dean matching it. “I didn’t think he was lying, but…”

“Had to see me for yourself, huh?” Dean grinned crookedly.

Cas curled his fingers into a fist so he wouldn’t be tempted to reach out.

Dean’s eyes followed the movement, small as it was, smile softening. “I’d be thinking the same thing, don’t worry.”

“I highly doubt you would be,” he said softly.

“I mean you’re not going crazy. That option’s out.” Dean took another small step forward. “I’ve got another guess, though.”

Cas sayed silent, unsure of the direction this was heading.

“See, I’ve had a lot of time to- to go over everything you said.” Dean lifted a shoulder, warmth hiding in his eyes. “And, not gonna lie, I’m a little bit pissed. You just had to tell me you loved me right when I couldn’t say it back.”

The breathless feeling was back, as if something was obstructing his throat.

“I always figured there was time, y’know?” Dean took another step forward, bringing him into arms reach. “Always enough time.”

Cas swallowed tightly, mouth working, unable to speak.

“But then you had to go and say it first, and then die. For me. Again.” Dean shook his head fondly. “Self-sacrificial bastard.”

Without breaking eye contact, Dean reached out to take his hand, lacing their fingers together.

His hand felt dry, and warm, and real, and Cas kind of wanted to cry.

“Then I evened the score by dying too.” Dean’s voice was soft, almost a whisper in the scant space between them. “Although you still had one up on me. I knew that you loved me. You didn’t know that I could have told you the same.”

“What are you saying?” His own voice was soft, a little bit shaky.

“I’m saying what I should have a long time ago.” Dean reached out, tugged him closer using the lapels of his coat. “You can have this.”

“Dean-”

Dean shook his head slightly, pressing his finger to Cas' mouth. “Not finished. You never asked, and so I’m telling you, right here, right now, you can have me. You always have.”

Cas made a soft, frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “I don’t understand."

“I love you too. Not like a brother, or like a friend. Losing you nearly killed me, and I hope to-” Dean laughed shakily. “Well, to Jack, that I never have to again.”

“You won’t.” He forced the words past the lump in his throat. “Not until we’re old, and grey, and ninety years old living in a care home. We can sit on a porch and shake our walkers at teenagers.”

Dean huffed a laugh. “God, that sounds amazing. I never thought retirement could sound so appealing.”

Cas smiled wetly, shaking his head in disbelief. “I missed you.”

Using their linked hands to tug him closer, Dean pressed their foreheads together, his smile soft. “You don’t have to anymore.”

He took a chance and, closing his eyes, pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of Dean’s mouth.

Dean curled a hand around the back of his neck, holding him close. “That all you got?”

Before he could answer, Dean tipped his chin up with one finger, leaning back in to kiss him.

Soft, sweet, and a little bit perfect.

Neither tried to make it any more than that.

There would be plenty of time for that in the future.

“What do you wanna do, Cas?” Dean squeezed his hand, voice lowered to a soft whisper meant only for his ears.

Cas opened his eyes slowly, contentment spreading through every bone in his body. “Let’s take a drive,” he suggested.

He relished in the pleased huff of laughter Dean gave.

“You always did have the best ideas.” 

They separated at the back of the car, and Cas watched as Dean slid into the driver's seat with a delighted smile. “Hey Baby. Did you miss me?”

“Yes,” Cas deadpanned.

Dean looked over quickly, face caught in a surprised laugh at the joke. “Damn, I love you.”

A flush spread over the back of his neck, but he didn’t look away.

Cas moved closer, leaning against Dean, and relaxing as he felt a warm arm wrap around his shoulders.

“We can head back to the bunker.” Dean’s voice rumbled against his back. “We can get a burger on the way. Or two. And I could be convinced to split a slice of pie.”

“A great sacrifice.”

“M-hm.”

“I can’t think of anything better,” Cas said honestly.

“Good. Because for once…” Dean let out a long, slow breath. “We’ve got no work to do.”


End file.
